O brother where art thou?

I am the eldest amongst the siblings, but too many people think I’m the youngest. I admit that I do act childish and craving for attention, but I’d rather refer it to the only child characteristics. Those people have mistakenly read the lines.

I was the only child for 5, almost 6, years, then came along my brother. I was very exciting at the beginning, imagining I would have someone to play with, rather than dragged the neighbor kids to stay a while. But when the moment came, I started to realize it might take some times for him to be able to play with me. And then the way people showered him with attention get on my nerve. And it was very upsetting me how everybody let him win just because he’s younger than me. Come on man, in school they taught me about justice, but in my childhood reality it was not realistically exist.

After a while, I was more focus on schools. I’ve always been a bit obsessive about this. On the contrary, I didn’t see it from my brother side. He always seemed chill out and didn’t care about grades. He definitely chose to play with his matchbox cars collection rather than fiddling with math book. Of course, this things drove mom crazy ;)

Time flies. It always does. Right now we are standing physically far apart. It was more or less 25 years that I always had him beside me. Well, not literally beside, but most of the time, we stayed under the same roof. Maybe it’s because the miles distance between us, lately I feel that I didn’t do the elder sister role very well. Amongst these years, how well do I know him? We have never had a close conversation about personal things. Well, he met most of my ex and boyfriends, but do I know something about his personal life? Not a single part of it. But how should I know things?

When he got into education trouble, I tried to find him solutions. Was it the best? How can you be so sure? And after I had a quite satisfactory wages, I managed to spare him a little. The shopping days with him were always the best, because we shared something in common in clothes. Although I sometimes doubt everything. Wasn’t it too spoiling?

Or maybe I was just being too hard on him. After all, I just want him to be strong, struggle a lot in life and take everything responsibly. I really want him to stand tall on his beliefs, his passion, his desire or whatever he feels like doing. As long as they are positive. But then I think again, how can I define one is positive and one is not? Can I figure it out through his view?

He’s a grown up now. I believe, or probably trying hard to believe, that he is a man who head his head up high and deserves to be proud of him self. It is common that we (mom and dad and me) want him to score a goal and we’ll be on the front line, cheering up for him. But hey, let’s just not to be hard on our selves again. After all, I just want him to be his self, and, happy. In your utmost comfortable way.

Happy birthday, Dimas.

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